


Sartorially Suited

by Miraphina Atherton (mew_tsubaki)



Category: NCIS
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Implied Relationships, POV Multiple, honestly there are a lot of team family feels in here lol, ship thru others' eyes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:53:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29891091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mew_tsubaki/pseuds/Miraphina%20Atherton
Summary: Those around Bishop and Torres every single day think they know these two special agents quite well, almost down to the very last detail. But there's a new detail these days that gives each of them pause, makes them wonder....::Ellick, viewed through the eyes of the other characters::.
Relationships: Ellie Bishop/Nick Torres
Comments: 1
Kudos: 46





	Sartorially Suited

**Author's Note:**

> The NCIS characters belong to Donald P. Bellasario, not to me. Inspired by something I've noticed over the last several seasons. ;3 Read, review, and enjoy!

Somedays, Leon Vance thinks he's running a tried-and-true, proper agency. Other days, he wonders if his agents have been sent to him by way of Henrietta Lange.

It has less to do with their day-to-day tasks. He does consider himself lucky not to be heading Special Ops; Hetty's agents either have a death wish or truly are unlucky enough to cross paths with at least one explosion seemingly every single day. But, Vance wonders a time or two in his walks to and from his office that give him a good gander at the rest of the orange room, he muses that he's been too lax around here with the dress code.

His people don't go undercover regularly, as does Hetty's team. But this is a federal agency, like the FBI or the CIA. Outside of officers in uniform who work on base, civilian workers are meant to dress in work attire. Collared shirts or blouses, ties, suits, polished shoes. Vance hasn't read the NCIS employee handbook in a long time—that's HR's role, unless a major overhaul is required and demands his attention as agency head—but it's not a difficult dress code to follow.

Most of the teams on the floor he knows follow it well. But there is always one…and even now, this morning, Vance's eyes drift directly down to the near middle of the bullpen, to the Major Case Response Team. Gibbs' team.

If this were a more serious gripe, Vance knows he'd get nowhere trying to budge Gibbs. There's no budging a Marine, and Vance knows better than to try. Besides, Gibbs does well to represent the agency; there's actually nothing to nitpick about the way the seasoned team leader suits up for work.

McGee follows in Gibbs' footsteps, it seems. Or maybe his own, Vance muses with the tiniest of smirks as he thinks of the technical background and by-the-book way of doing things he and McGee have in common. But it's true that McGee's not an issue in this instance, far from it.

On the other hand… Quite McGee's opposite is Torres, and now Vance's thoughts circle back to Hetty's team. In t-shirts and jeans, Torres dresses these days much the same as if they've just brought him in from out of the cold, much as though he's waiting to change into some costume and adopt a fresh alias he has yet to wear. The team has suffered one hardship after another since Torres joined, and Torres joined on a less-than-positive note at that—sometimes Vance wonders if he made the right call, keeping him here in D.C. instead of sending him out to L.A. where he might've been more comfortable around fellow chameleons Callen and Hanna…

On yet another hand, maybe Torres fits in all right here if he already has some influence of his own. Vance does a slight double-take, his eyebrows rising subtly, when he sees Bishop walk away from her desk to share a file with McGee and allow Torres to look over her shoulder at her copy. And, seeing her stand, the director sees it's not one but _two_ agents on Gibbs' team dressed casually in jeans today.

Huh.

Bishop has always come off as a little straight-laced herself—by-the-book, like McGee, Vance would say—but she's not the type who gives off a casual vibe at work. Torres' influence is his only answer for it, but the notion actually makes Vance smile as he turns on his heel to head for his office.

He's far less concerned about dress codes that day than he is about his agents getting along and feeling as though they belong.

* * *

The detail sneaks up on Sloane when she's actually busy reading their body language instead.

She knows she made everyone a promise—and, to be fair, it's a promise she keeps with herself, too, before anyone around her can even ask—not to analyze them without their knowledge. But sometimes Sloane can't help it. Sometimes her mind wanders and the analysis kicks in, like second nature. Sometimes, she has a new academic article at the forefront of her mind, and lingering on the topic occasionally sees her testing out new ideas or looking for new clues.

Reading people is one of her favorite aspects of her job, even if it sometimes tells her much more than she can handle. But there are always new tidbits to learn about body language, new things to interpret. Granted, she wonders if she'll ever be able to crack the tough nut that is Leroy Jethro Gibbs (and if she does, that's a psychology paper that would come with awards if not grants, if she were interested in those things), but the young ones are just… _so_ much easier to read.

Sticking around their desks while assisting on a case is a great way to pick up on subtle cues. Such as McGee's frown every time his phone buzzes—has he realized yet how often he frowns when that thing rings or a text comes in? Or the way Torres folds the tiniest corner of his papers—they all know paperwork is the last thing he wants to do, and he'll do anything to stall completing it. Or when Bishop chews on her bottom lip—ah, time to slide a lollipop her way.

The trio pieces together the clues slowly, too slowly where time is of the essence, so Sloane turns her folder around and selects the likeliest of persons of interest, holds up the man's photo. McGee's the first to thank her, and in the absence of Gibbs he directs the other two to go pick him up while McGee stays behind to review their preliminary search on the suspect and do a second, deeper dive into the man's background.

Sloane tells McGee he's welcome and takes a little bow—though she's reluctant to admit it, Vance was right about coming here, because she's never been welcomed anywhere else the way she's been welcomed here—and she turns to go, glimpsing Bishop and Torres while they wait for the elevator.

Despite the murder case they're working, the two chat, all friendly smiles, and Sloane thinks she sees what she was reading about just this morning. Torres scratches below his neck, on his collarbone, and Bishop's left hand is curled around the strap of her backpack, but she scratches the back of her hand with her right. It makes Sloane smother a grin—all right, so she read about subconscious grooming gestures indicating interest in potential mates, but she knows better than to jump to conclusions about her colleagues, even if they do look like a good…match…

Hold up.

Sloane squints as Bishop steps into the elevator and Torres follows. Sure, it's a little chilly these days, so they both have jackets, but—their jackets just now weren't _matching_ , were they? And these weren't their NCIS windbreakers, either, but black baseball jackets, so they're not something easily mistaken.

The elevator door slides shut, and Sloane comes to her senses. No. She has to be mistaken. They've seen Torres' mostly-black wardrobe, and that's not Bishop's style. Of course not. Bishop's all beige-and-caramel sunshine while Torres is brooding black and dark gray rainclouds.

So Sloane _has_ to be wrong about the matching jackets, just as the article from this morning must be misinterpreting their body language. Sometimes people just have an itch they have to scratch.

(Although, her memory recalls as she studies the case file back in her office and her mind wanders again, it's not universal that matching items are for friends and family only. In other countries, people wear matching things only with their lovers…hmm….)

* * *

At times, Ducky feels a touch forgotten in the archives, morphing from NCIS' Chief Medical Examiner into Historian. It's not a magical job, although it does appear to be quite safer, but it's nice to be remembered when Sloane comes and plucks him from his research and categorizing for lunch or tea or when Palmer rings him up and they chat like old times, as if nothing at all has changed.

On the bright side, leaving Autopsy has given him a certain amount of freedom, and Ducky stretches his legs more these days, so long as the clouds above forever hold their peace. He likes to think he doesn't need the maps or blueprints in the archives to know his way around the base; his walks allow him to memorize nearly all of NCIS, a newfound achievement in a lifetime full of innumerable accomplishments big and small.

When with Palmer or Sloane or Gibbs or even without, Ducky people-watches a little more often these days, too. It's a nostalgic thing, but it always brings him home, makes him feel at home, especially when he thinks back to years ago and how close he came to losing all this at the hands of Harper Dearing.

So Ducky sits on a bench, breaking into bite-size bits a pastry his mother never would've eaten but for which her namesake regularly asks when he visits the Palmer household, snacking and sipping his tea in the late afternoon, watching the goings-on across the various footpaths outside the building. He has no intention of disturbing anyone while he enjoys this small repast, although the gentleman in him can't be quelled when he sees Bishop and Torres stroll towards the visitors' coffee cart on the lawn. He goes to lift his hand in polite wave, not necessarily to summon them over, just to be friendly—but curiosity halts him.

Well, that's rather interesting. Ducky doesn't consider himself a couture connoisseur (except for bowties—he certainly knows his way around bowties), but in bright sunlight it's hard to miss the picture Bishop and Torres paint: both of them in black denims and shoes and blindingly white shirts. Torres is, of course, a casual offender, Ducky thinks to himself with a chuckle; Torres is in a white t-shirt, and Ducky can't recall a lone memory of the young man in a button-up for any reason other than the sake of a case. Bishop wears the button-up, actually, and it looks nice, though Ducky can hear his late mother's voice in his head, griping about women wearing clothing that appears to be menswear. So Ducky doesn't wave to the pair of agents, but he does wave the intruding thought away.

Ducky glances at them again, another thought hitting him that it's nice to see Torres in something that's not black. He's not certain if black is Nicholas Torres' favorite color, but it did worry Ducky, the way Torres was pulled back to the States and the way he had to adapt to team life. Who knows? Perhaps they'll see Torres in something that's not a neutral one of these days.

His gaze lingers on them a bit longer as they wrap up at the coffee cart, likely joking about something as they share in a laugh, and Ducky can't help his smile. They strike a nice image, but it's their demeanor that has him musing something else.

Has he seen this type of thing before? There's a—a chemistry, about the two of them, that feels quite familiar, and yet not… It takes a moment for Ducky to place his finger on it, and Bishop and Torres are far out of sight by the time he lets his mind head for the comparison.

Perhaps he's seen something like this, just not quite. Still, Ducky can't help but think of Tony and Ziva. Those two took their time warming up to each other, and they definitely had their individual personalities beforehand, but there were slight changes, too. Tony—he became stricter about the niceness and the neatness of his suits after Ziva made the decision to stick around not only as liaison but as part of the team. Ziva—she traded in her looser, street-worthy, fight-ready attire for feminine blouses and makeup the more she acclimated to the U.S.

But they never actually dressed _alike_.

And there Ducky pauses to chuckle at himself. Of course the comparison is absurd. Tony and Ziva happened—the proof is adorable little Tali. But reading into Bishop's and Torres' fashion? He has to laugh at himself. An expert at fashion, Donald Mallard is not.

* * *

Jimmy knows not to waste a good opportunity when he sees it. That said, if he can't finish this report in the next five minutes, then this surprise night out will not happen because Breena upstairs will walk back to her car and head home and start watching their DVR backlog without him.

He looks the report over two, three times, and scribbles a sticky note to Kasie— _K, Can you include the toxicology summary again? I lost my copy. SRY! J_ —before grabbing his things. He swings past the lab, slides the report under Kasie's door, and then takes the elevator the rest of the way upstairs, hoping beyond hope that Breena hasn't left yet. He checks his watch; he still has two minutes…er, a minute and a half left, after all!

Jimmy pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose and nearly collides with the elevator door, he's that impatient for it to open. But luck is on his side, because his beautiful wife is still there, shooting the breeze with Bishop and Torres. He grins automatically, picking out Breena's laugh from the others'. "Sorry for the wait," he says as he claims the spot on Breena's right.

"No worries, Jimmy," Breena says. She notices his hair sticking up, doesn't comment on the likelihood of his nearly colliding with the elevator door for the umpteenth time in his impatience, and reaches up to smooth a tuft back while she jerks her head towards their friends. "Ellie and Nick were just telling me that they're planning on a team truce for April Fool's this year."

He quirks an eyebrow at them. "April Fool's? But that's still months and months away."

Torres shrugs. "Eh, let's be real, Jimmy: If we don't make the concerted effort now, the temptation's gonna be too hard to resist."

"So then what were you guys laughing about?"

Torres grins, so Bishop answers: "Well, McGee wasn't present for the truce, so we're deciding whether to do the right thing and include him anyway…"

"…or wait and see if he has another day where he's just so insufferably _McGee_ ," Torres finishes for her. He says this part while looking at Bishop, the grin still there and Bishop giving him a look that says she's not sure she quite trusts that grin, not when pranks are involved. Their interaction has Breena laughing again.

"My vote's for everyone included," Jimmy says.

"Diplomat," Torres teases, though he says the word like a curse.

"Then Breena deserves a dinner fit for a diplomat's wife," Jimmy retorts, and he tips his head to the agents and holds his arm out for Breena to take.

She happily accepts, and she waves bye to the other pair, but her eyes linger on them for a moment, just long enough that Jimmy has to tug her along. Breena's eyes glint with interest when they reach his car, though she keeps her thoughts to herself.

Jimmy cocks his head to one side. "Uh, I know I made a diplomat joke back there, but I assure you we won't splurge that much. Victoria's college fund is always at the front of my mind," he insists.

Breena blinks and smiles. "No, it's not that. Jimmy, you should've told me about them." Her smile turns into a playful smirk while they buckle up.

"Uh, told you what about whom?"

"Jimmy. About Ellie and Nick."

"Yeah, I—I don't follow," he replies with a deer-in-the-headlights smile.

"That they got together."

His smile doesn't lessen. "Um. Come again?"

Breena shakes her head at her husband. "Jimmy, you haven't noticed?"

"I think I'd notice something as big as _that_." His shoulders sink a fraction. Even if he didn't notice, he would hope his friends would tell him at some point. After all, Ziva wasn't far off the mark, calling him "still everyone's favorite confidant." "Anyway," he says, getting back to their conversation, "what gave you the impression that they're…y'know?"

She chuckles softly as Jimmy exits the parking lot and they pull out onto the main street. "It's pretty obvious by how they dress."

All right, _now_ he's confused. "Come again?"

Breena grins, a sight he catches out of the corner of his eye. "No, really! They're not twinning, don't worry—although that would be obvious, for sure. But it's their styles, honey." She sinks into her seat a bit, a happy sigh escaping her lips. "It's cute, actually. Their boots are an exception, because those _were_ the same. But the jeans and t-shirts… Ellie's usually all business, but this is a nice look for her, too."

"I—uh—wuh—" Jimmy closes his mouth and furrows his brow, attempting to jump aboard Breena's train of thought. He hasn't given his friends' clothing much thought before, let alone their styles. But he's also trying to recall just these details from today, from earlier tonight, from minutes ago.

Bishop and Torres…? Bishop and Torres… Bishop…and Torres…

Jimmy's not entirely sure Breena's interpreted it correctly—after all, clothes are just clothes, right?—but he's impressed nevertheless and knows he's got the perfect dinner topic for them tonight: Imagine if keen-eyed Breena Slater had been a federal investigator instead of a mortician….

* * *

Kasie Hines doesn't need clothing to tell her anything. She has seen this coming from a mile away, before Bishop and Torres were even aware themselves.

But can they be any more obvious?

Kasie doesn't mind when the gang comes downstairs for updates. Hell, she loves a visit; some of them are chattier than they appear to be, and Kasie adores that. But she is also not here to be anybody's third wheel. And that has to be the case by now, whenever Bishop and Torres are the ones who grace her lab with their presence these days.

Before, it was obvious through their interactions. These two complete each other's sentences in a way that would make identical twins envious, and they each take their overprotectiveness to extremes (okay, so that last bit Kasie hasn't exactly witnessed herself, but it's not her fault that McGee's kind of a blabbermouth).

Nowadays, there's never more than a foot of space between them. But their clothing is a more glaring beacon, something so obvious even a child could point it out.

Bishop's all but traded in her dress slacks for jeans or the rare fitted cargo pants. Her blouses seem to be gone, too—now she's all plain t-shirts, short- or long-sleeve. Her shoes lean a little more combat ready, too. About the only thing that hasn't changed is her cozy sweaters that she still swims in.

And Torres? He's probably the one to blame for Bishop's huge change in style, but Bishop's had some influence on him, too, Kasie would say. The dude has been spotted in color! If one can call white, off-white, silver, and gray colors. And hey—wait—is he wearing the same brand of boots Bishop is? Hmm…

But, frankly, the freakiest thing occurs one day when the two of them walk into the lab and, before either of them can speak, Kasie turns around and gets an eyeful:

Bishop and Torres. Jeans, tees, those boots. But _those tees are tucked into their damn waistbands the same way, what the hell!_

She can't even with them. Outwardly, Kasie is all too happy to assist her friends and coworkers with their current case. And, inwardly, she does a little cheer, because it's _about damn time_ these two got their act together.

But internally Kasie mainly just wishes for her friends to stop throwing pheromones around her damn lab already. Come _on_ , people!

* * *

It's not the first time he's teased Torres, and it's not even the first time he's teased Torres about this particular thing. But…McGee catches himself before teasing Torres this time, because, somehow, today of all days, he sees something he hasn't seen before. And it's not even on Torres.

Is it just McGee or…does that flannel Bishop has layered over her top look a lot like one of Torres'?

He stops, stares at his keyboard, squints at the keys and pretends to type while he panics. This is— No, that can't be— Surely, he's not— They're not—

All right. Breathe. He's the senior agent of the three of them. He…he's been around longest. He's the oldest of the three of them. He's—he's seen things. He's experienced things. He's worked with Ziva and Tony and Kate, so of course after those three he can handle anything.

McGee takes a peek above his monitor, looks across the way at the two of them at Bishop's desk. …nope. Now that he's seen it, he can't unsee it.

This had been another great chance to poke fun at Torres again, honestly. Almost from the get-go, the guy has seemed allergic to his own desk. But over the years he's gravitated more often than not to Bishop's more than…to anyone…else's…

McGee purses his lips. No. It can't be. But he takes another peek at them.

This time Bishop and Torres stare back. Torres has one eyebrow quirked, like "Bro, what the hell?" and Bishop's got that pinch between her eyebrows as though she's getting ready to correct McGee about some detail.

McGee ducks his head, does an excellent job feigning normalcy. If either of them bugs him, he'll just say he had a thought about the money trail that flew away and he's working on getting it back.

Neither of them asks what's got him making funny faces at them.

Meanwhile, McGee continues to stare at his screen and take away nothing of the words and numbers staring back at him. He can't, because he's far too busy dismantling his panic.

There is absolutely no way that Bishop and Torres are together.

Besides, why even think that? People can loan people clothes in a platonic manner, too. So there's absolutely no reason whatsoever to jump to conclusions about these two. He doesn't even want to think about it.

Not to mention, McGee mentally adds to his running list of denials with a glimpse at the empty desk of their fearless leader, Bishop and Torres work together. There are rules about this sort of thing. Tony and Ziva were a weird, rare exception and—and—and—well, the circumstances are not the same, whatsoever.

McGee should just be glad that his junior agents get along so well, is all. So, with that crazy notion put to rest, McGee catches Torres' eye again and motions him back to work at his own desk, ignoring the way the latter dramatically yowls the short walk back, eliciting an entertained, not irritated, chuckle from Bishop.

* * *

…Gibbs has rules. He has rules so people know what lines they're going to cross, because…rules are made to be broken. He always teaches his agents, his kids, every last rule. But that made-to-be-broken part is a secret, is a lesson that everyone has to learn on their own. God knows he's learned it time and again.

And it's his rules and that secret lesson that come to mind at the end of one workday when he sits at his desk, wrapping up some nonsense paperwork. McGee's already gone home to Delilah and the twins, Sloane stopped by on her way out and ended up walking out with Vance and Kasie, and Palmer better have his butt out of Autopsy and on the way home before it's past his daughter's bedtime. That leaves him in the bullpen with Torres and Bishop dragging their feet as they shut down their computers for the weekend and grab their things.

Normally he'd tell them goodnight without lifting his head from his work. But they're not far from his desk, so Gibbs pauses to give them a brief nod, a Gibbs family sign of affection, before they head home. And maybe his head's been wrapped up in this case or maybe some part of his attention will always be outside of the office, with Tobias and Emily, but now his focus is here and stalls long enough that he couldn't cover it with another brief nod if he had the mind to do so.

"Uhh…Gibbs…?" Bishop prods, her brow furrowed.

Gibbs takes in the obvious sight before him, internally snorts about the trouble Rule Twelve has caused him over the years, and simply smirks. It's a soft expression, though, and he shakes his head and ushers them on with a wave of his hand.

They nod, wish him a good night, and pick up some speed on their way to the elevator. And then Gibbs is left in peace to finish his work.

* * *

…but, of course, that exchange with Gibbs just now is on Bishop and Torres' minds, and they're fidgety the entire elevator ride down.

Bishop runs her hands—yes, both of them—through her hair while Torres stands to her left, cool as a cucumber. "Oh, my _God_ , Gibbs totally knows. He knows."

"Pssh. C'mon, Ellie." He shrugs then…and, in doing so, reveals that he's less cool cucumber and more jumping bean. "We've said nothing! How can he possible know?"

"Nick! I'm wearing one of your shirts today!" she hisses.

He throws up both hands in a calming gesture, but their conversation halts when they reach the ground floor and exit the lobby. But, outside, most everyone else has gone home already, so it's all right to be a little conspicuous. Torres cocks his head to one side and peers into her eyes. "But, seriously. How could Gibbs possibly identify a generic black shirt?"

Bishop chews her bottom lip and stares up at him with large eyes.

Torres pulls her into his arms, an action to calm both their nerves. "Even if a tight black tee on me looks just as sexy hanging a little loose on you…" He shakes his head dramatically, heaves a sigh for added effect.

That does the trick. Bishop breaks into a laughing smile and reaches up, going to pat his stubbly left cheek and instead choosing to hold his face, bringing it close to hers, letting their noses touch. There aren't many shadows in the NCIS parking lot, but the pair is dressed for the occasion—matching black boots and jeans, his short-sleeve tees—so…if they've been found out (or are about to be)…might as well make good use of those shadows, yeah?

**Author's Note:**

> B3c No particular timeline in mind, tho this was written with a pre-s18 mindset, hence no spoilers. -w- STILL! These last several seasons, esp in s16 & 17, I've noted something I can't unsee myself: _That is the blessed wardrobe dept. for this show dressing Ellick's actors alike, I kid you not_. It doesn't happen in every episode, and Bishop's style has seen the most change, but it happens often enough and blatantly enough that I took note and pointed it out to my dad and my friend and now we all see it (we're all Ellick shippers, too, so we could be biased, but I DIGRESS :P). I remember in my film classes how important sets and wardrobe and props could be, but my heart has been squeezing over this detail for so long and it took me a long while to figure out how/if I could ever write this observation as a fic. Turns out, doing this in my style of ship-thru-another's-eyes (particularly, the process of my old _Haikyuu!!_ oneshot, "[Are They…?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14204397)") is exactly what I needed! :'D Not to mention all the POVs! X3 Some details of Ellick's outfits are stretched here, but * _not_ everything is—some are based on real things seen in the show*. Jsyk! ;D (And regarding Ducky's summation of Tiva, I have one additional, s17 wardrobe comment: Note that, seeing Ziva back, without stability and without Tony around, Ziva has reverted to dressing like her old self, more mobile and danger-ready, oho. :O) Oh, also, Sloane's psychoanalytic bit about the grooming habits—that's a real thing! I read that recently in a [news article](https://www.yahoo.com/news/dating-expert-reveals-body-language-164037026.html), tho, not an academic journal, *lol*. (Also true is the matching-is-for-lovers detail in other countries; I'm sure there are other examples, but I know for a fact that Japan is one such country where people tend to match with their lovers in lieu of friends or family.) Anywho…! I enjoyed writing from all these diff POVs and deciding to include Ellick themselves at the end. The Jeena section still makes me smile and laugh a lot, tho, altho Vance's opening is just. XD (I'm a fan of all the _NCIS_ shows. c:) So how about you? Do you have any details that are your favs? Which section/Whose POV(s) did you enjoy reading the most?
> 
> Thanks for reading, and _please_ review! Check out my other _NCIS_ fics if you liked this.
> 
> -mew-tsubaki :D


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